Gradually the corporal regained consciousness once again. He saw an
ornate ceiling promoting hospitality. He realised he was lying down on a
not-too-comfortable mattress. Hastily he sat up, expecting to feel woozy,
but, magically, he was fine.
"Oh! You're awake!" a woman called. The corporal's head snapped around, quickly taking in her appearance and his surroundings. She appeared to be harmless, and he seemed to be in a hospital ward. In the other beds were two other soldiers, clearly American and clearly dead from deep stab wounds, one fast-asleep seventeen-year-old woman wearing robes with blood soaking her hair, and what appeared to be a cactus.
"Yes, I'm awake." he grumbled. "I got knocked out twice in that mission, I think I got a concussion. Where am I?"
"You're at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." she said slowly.
"Look, bitch, I'm not in the fucking mood for games." he snarled. "I just slept through the best combat experience of my life, so I'm in a pretty bad mood. Where am I?"
"I assure you, corporal Shepherd - I looked at your dog tag - you are indeed in Hogwarts."
"What kind of a shitty made-up-name is Hogwarts? There's no such thing as magic - " Shepherd began, about to launch into a rabid diatribe against delusional, ditzy nurses who couldn't keep their legs closed, but stopping suddenly as he remembered the undead Pegasus-thing and the horde of centaurs. "Wha-?" he wondered, thoughts exploding across his mind which such ferocity he was forced to sit down.
"It's quite simple, really," she informed him. "Yes, magic does exist. You are a Muggle soldier of some kind. A Muggle is a non-magical person like yourself. I am a witch, a witch who specialises in magical medicine, so I'm the local nurse here at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Only the school is in a state of bedlam at the moment; it has been overrun by many soldiers of your type, and many magical creatures of every type. I do hope these two are the only fatalities." She stroked the hair of one of the dead men sadly.
Over a span of several seconds Shepherd got over the shock of it all. Then he successfully integrated it into his current knowledge of the world and came back to life. "I've seen at least forty other fatalities." he informed her brutally. He paused and thought. "Wait, am I still in the same combat zone as I was knocked out in?!"
"Obviously yes, I haven't been able to get anyone out, have I? I've sat in here ever since you victims found your way to me, looking after you all and making sure none of those wandering horrors gets in here."
"How long have I been out?"
"At most half-an-hour."
"Shit, shit, shit." he muttered to himself. "Lady, where did you put my weapons? I'm gonna need them."
"You're not thinking about going back out there, are you?!" she screeched. "It's DANGEROUS! You could be killed!"
"All part of the job, ma'am. Before we left Iraq we were specifically told that if we were separated before we received our orders we should seek a superior officer to give them to us. Now I know why, they anticipated this kind of a gangfuck, and now I've got to fight my way to a superior officer. Which is pretty hard to do when you're disarmed. Where are my weapons?"
"Errr, what did they look like?" she asked nervously. "Were they made of metal and strangely-shaped?"
"The M16 isn't that strange, but yeah."
"Oh dear. I believe that I've already disposed of them."
"You WHAT?"
"Well, I had to make a potion for the unfortunate man there looking like a cactus, and the recipe called for a lot of metal, so I put in all the metallic things you were carrying. Without it, I don't believe he'd make it."
"Even my knife?"
"No, I didn't, but what on earth would you want with a knife?"
"Stab people who attack."
"You - good heavens, you Muggles are even more barbaric than I thought!"
"It's not a primary weapon. They're only issued in case we run out of ammo, or some crazy witch-doctor melts our assault rifles."
"Could you please show some respect? I did save your life."
"I'm not sure you did." Shepherd replied hardly. "Give me the knife and I'll be on my way. If I survive long enough to get a proper weapon, I'll be back at some point to thank you for saving my life."
"Fine." she said huffily, holding out the knife as though it were a pointless, ungainly object. Shepherd snatched it up and strode purposefully to the door.
He looked through the keyhole. Beyond was an empty hallway. A long, stone, fire-lit, empty hallway, with many doors going off it on the left side and none on the right. The wall tapestries animated like high-quality CGI, and there was a somewhat rusty suit of armour near the door and two more at the end of the corridor. He pressed his ear against the door and listened. For what the nurse claimed was a war zone, it was exceptionally quiet. Was the whole place soundproof? Probably. Wizards wouldn't like being disturbed by outside noises while whipping up spells. He looked through the keyhole again to make sure nobody was on the other side. Strangely, he sensed that along the corridor there was presence. So he scrutinised every inch of what he could see. Nobody there. Just the suits of armour and those living tapestries, who surely couldn't be a threat. His instincts were usually right, so why were they wrong now?
Holding the knife in a stabbing position, as he had been taught in Close-Quarters Combat Training, Shepherd silently turned the doorknob, then launched himself through the door, eyes wild. With his wholly inadequate knowledge of magic, anything could be a hidden threat, and he treated everything as such. Satisfied at last that the hallway was devoid of threat and he was just being paranoid, he closed the door, lowered the knife and began walking forward.
The suit of armour turned its head towards him. The smooth backing of the helmet reflected light, seeming to glare at the dumbstruck corporal Shepherd. The right gauntlet reached down and drew the sword from its scabbard with a metallic zing. The left gauntlet joined the right, holding the sword almost awkwardly over its head. It dragged its dusty feet from their moorings of centuries and began shambling towards Shepherd with the occasional squeal of rust.
Once Shepherd had got past the utter astonishment that an object empty of life was his foe, he realised several things. Firstly, although this suit of armour had clearly been bewitched to attack him, it certainly hadn't been installed with this intention in mind, or else it would be in better fighting shape. Therefore the spellworking had probably occurred recently, which meant that some of the wizards were working against the soldiers, almost undoubtedly. Secondly, it was such a poor animation and such a poor subject for animation, he could bypass it easily, probably destroy it even. Thirdly, it might be a good idea to destroy it, because then at least he'd have a sword instead of a knife, one step up, although only non-Muggles would have any idea how many chunks he'd have to take out of this thing to end the animation to then retrieve the sword. Fourthly, if this suit of armour was bewitched, it was a good bet the two down the corridor were bewitched too, so he'd better get a move on wrecking this damn thing.
Shepherd advanced nimbly, knife raised to his chest. The armour hulked ever closer. Shepherd and the armour were two metres apart. Shepherd jumped in front of the armour, jumped back as it brought its bastard sword down in a tight arc, and jumped in close again. With one arm he drove the sword arm into the wall, with the other he began stabbing with the knife. He punctured half a dozen frenzied slits into the neck joint before it twisted around and lashed out with an impressively strong backhand blow to the jaw. Surprised, Shepherd fell backwards and would have fallen to the floor had it not been for the wall now supporting him. He recovered quickly and ducked low, just avoiding the clumsy sideswipe from his automated enemy. He jumped up and embedded his knife into the neck up to the hilt. The already frail neck-joint felt like a can lid which had already been three-quarters opened by a can opener. Shepherd noticed this. Leaving the knife in, he grabbed the sword arm with both hands and pushed it against the wall with both hands, blocked the left punch and punched the thing in the head with his own left hand. The head partially came off, and the knife dropped to the ground behind the armour. He punched again. The head fell backwards, but still held on with a tiny thread of steel. He punched downwards onto it, lightly gashing his hand on the jagged edges and taking the head completely off. It clattered to the floor and rolled away.
Then the armour punched him in the ribs. Shepherd had forgotten that although his foe was hominid, it was not going to be killed, because it was not alive. He could not sit here stabbing at the thing all day until it completely fell apart. It was time to ask for help from the only witch he knew. Shepherd ducked under its armpit before it could attack any more and pelted for the infirmary.
"Afternoon, ma'am." he said amicably. "Could you help me get rid of this thing?"
"I did tell you, it's dangerous to try to leave right now." she answered shrilly, but drew her wand and rolled up her sleeves all the same. She strolled over to the door. "Finite incantatem!" she cried.
This had absolutely no effect. The suit of armour continued advancing all the same.
"Ah, umm." she stalled. "I'm a medicine specialist. I don't know any more powerful banishment spells."
"Well, is there anything we can do to manually wreck that fucking thing?" he panted. "Maybe throw something caustic over it? Or make it so hot it melts?"
"Not a bad idea." she acknowledged. "I'm brewing up some anti-shock potion for the cactus-man, but it only takes two seconds to make and it's acid right now. Help me drag the cauldron."
Shepherd and the nurse yanked the pewter cauldron off the fire and near the door. He noticed a long, shallow pewter tub attached to the wall for some medical purpose and immediately ripped it off the wall. He hauled this over to the door and pointed it at the suit of armour, which was still shambling forwards resolutely. Then he tipped the contents of the cauldron into the tub, stood at the side of the tub furthest from the suit of armour and waited. Several seconds later the armour came to the door. It took care to step over the lip of the tub and continued walking towards Shepherd and the nurse. Its feet began fizzing instantly, and before it had taken another step its foot was mostly dissolved, and with a crack it began walking on its shins. These dissolved quickly too, but still it marched on heedless. When its knees were dissolved the magic was visibly weakened, the thing's movements were even more shaky and jerky than they had already been. Shepherd stepped forwards and prised the sword from the armour's grip, then stepped back several paces. The armour had lost the entire of both legs to the acid but was enchanted to continue moving towards its enemy, and predictably fell full-length into the tub with a splash. Within seconds there was nothing left.
"That was by far the strangest combat I've ever seen." Shepherd opined. "Well, thank you for saving my life again, miss..."
"Pomfrey." she said distractedly. "Madame Pomfrey."
"My earlier promise is still on, Madame. If I manage to find a gun and find my superiors, I will find you and thank you." She pointed her wand at the gash in his hand and muttered something. The cut magically healed itself. Shepherd smiled his gratitude, held the bastard sword in front of him as he stepped over the tub of acid and continued down the corridor.
"Oh! You're awake!" a woman called. The corporal's head snapped around, quickly taking in her appearance and his surroundings. She appeared to be harmless, and he seemed to be in a hospital ward. In the other beds were two other soldiers, clearly American and clearly dead from deep stab wounds, one fast-asleep seventeen-year-old woman wearing robes with blood soaking her hair, and what appeared to be a cactus.
"Yes, I'm awake." he grumbled. "I got knocked out twice in that mission, I think I got a concussion. Where am I?"
"You're at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." she said slowly.
"Look, bitch, I'm not in the fucking mood for games." he snarled. "I just slept through the best combat experience of my life, so I'm in a pretty bad mood. Where am I?"
"I assure you, corporal Shepherd - I looked at your dog tag - you are indeed in Hogwarts."
"What kind of a shitty made-up-name is Hogwarts? There's no such thing as magic - " Shepherd began, about to launch into a rabid diatribe against delusional, ditzy nurses who couldn't keep their legs closed, but stopping suddenly as he remembered the undead Pegasus-thing and the horde of centaurs. "Wha-?" he wondered, thoughts exploding across his mind which such ferocity he was forced to sit down.
"It's quite simple, really," she informed him. "Yes, magic does exist. You are a Muggle soldier of some kind. A Muggle is a non-magical person like yourself. I am a witch, a witch who specialises in magical medicine, so I'm the local nurse here at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Only the school is in a state of bedlam at the moment; it has been overrun by many soldiers of your type, and many magical creatures of every type. I do hope these two are the only fatalities." She stroked the hair of one of the dead men sadly.
Over a span of several seconds Shepherd got over the shock of it all. Then he successfully integrated it into his current knowledge of the world and came back to life. "I've seen at least forty other fatalities." he informed her brutally. He paused and thought. "Wait, am I still in the same combat zone as I was knocked out in?!"
"Obviously yes, I haven't been able to get anyone out, have I? I've sat in here ever since you victims found your way to me, looking after you all and making sure none of those wandering horrors gets in here."
"How long have I been out?"
"At most half-an-hour."
"Shit, shit, shit." he muttered to himself. "Lady, where did you put my weapons? I'm gonna need them."
"You're not thinking about going back out there, are you?!" she screeched. "It's DANGEROUS! You could be killed!"
"All part of the job, ma'am. Before we left Iraq we were specifically told that if we were separated before we received our orders we should seek a superior officer to give them to us. Now I know why, they anticipated this kind of a gangfuck, and now I've got to fight my way to a superior officer. Which is pretty hard to do when you're disarmed. Where are my weapons?"
"Errr, what did they look like?" she asked nervously. "Were they made of metal and strangely-shaped?"
"The M16 isn't that strange, but yeah."
"Oh dear. I believe that I've already disposed of them."
"You WHAT?"
"Well, I had to make a potion for the unfortunate man there looking like a cactus, and the recipe called for a lot of metal, so I put in all the metallic things you were carrying. Without it, I don't believe he'd make it."
"Even my knife?"
"No, I didn't, but what on earth would you want with a knife?"
"Stab people who attack."
"You - good heavens, you Muggles are even more barbaric than I thought!"
"It's not a primary weapon. They're only issued in case we run out of ammo, or some crazy witch-doctor melts our assault rifles."
"Could you please show some respect? I did save your life."
"I'm not sure you did." Shepherd replied hardly. "Give me the knife and I'll be on my way. If I survive long enough to get a proper weapon, I'll be back at some point to thank you for saving my life."
"Fine." she said huffily, holding out the knife as though it were a pointless, ungainly object. Shepherd snatched it up and strode purposefully to the door.
He looked through the keyhole. Beyond was an empty hallway. A long, stone, fire-lit, empty hallway, with many doors going off it on the left side and none on the right. The wall tapestries animated like high-quality CGI, and there was a somewhat rusty suit of armour near the door and two more at the end of the corridor. He pressed his ear against the door and listened. For what the nurse claimed was a war zone, it was exceptionally quiet. Was the whole place soundproof? Probably. Wizards wouldn't like being disturbed by outside noises while whipping up spells. He looked through the keyhole again to make sure nobody was on the other side. Strangely, he sensed that along the corridor there was presence. So he scrutinised every inch of what he could see. Nobody there. Just the suits of armour and those living tapestries, who surely couldn't be a threat. His instincts were usually right, so why were they wrong now?
Holding the knife in a stabbing position, as he had been taught in Close-Quarters Combat Training, Shepherd silently turned the doorknob, then launched himself through the door, eyes wild. With his wholly inadequate knowledge of magic, anything could be a hidden threat, and he treated everything as such. Satisfied at last that the hallway was devoid of threat and he was just being paranoid, he closed the door, lowered the knife and began walking forward.
The suit of armour turned its head towards him. The smooth backing of the helmet reflected light, seeming to glare at the dumbstruck corporal Shepherd. The right gauntlet reached down and drew the sword from its scabbard with a metallic zing. The left gauntlet joined the right, holding the sword almost awkwardly over its head. It dragged its dusty feet from their moorings of centuries and began shambling towards Shepherd with the occasional squeal of rust.
Once Shepherd had got past the utter astonishment that an object empty of life was his foe, he realised several things. Firstly, although this suit of armour had clearly been bewitched to attack him, it certainly hadn't been installed with this intention in mind, or else it would be in better fighting shape. Therefore the spellworking had probably occurred recently, which meant that some of the wizards were working against the soldiers, almost undoubtedly. Secondly, it was such a poor animation and such a poor subject for animation, he could bypass it easily, probably destroy it even. Thirdly, it might be a good idea to destroy it, because then at least he'd have a sword instead of a knife, one step up, although only non-Muggles would have any idea how many chunks he'd have to take out of this thing to end the animation to then retrieve the sword. Fourthly, if this suit of armour was bewitched, it was a good bet the two down the corridor were bewitched too, so he'd better get a move on wrecking this damn thing.
Shepherd advanced nimbly, knife raised to his chest. The armour hulked ever closer. Shepherd and the armour were two metres apart. Shepherd jumped in front of the armour, jumped back as it brought its bastard sword down in a tight arc, and jumped in close again. With one arm he drove the sword arm into the wall, with the other he began stabbing with the knife. He punctured half a dozen frenzied slits into the neck joint before it twisted around and lashed out with an impressively strong backhand blow to the jaw. Surprised, Shepherd fell backwards and would have fallen to the floor had it not been for the wall now supporting him. He recovered quickly and ducked low, just avoiding the clumsy sideswipe from his automated enemy. He jumped up and embedded his knife into the neck up to the hilt. The already frail neck-joint felt like a can lid which had already been three-quarters opened by a can opener. Shepherd noticed this. Leaving the knife in, he grabbed the sword arm with both hands and pushed it against the wall with both hands, blocked the left punch and punched the thing in the head with his own left hand. The head partially came off, and the knife dropped to the ground behind the armour. He punched again. The head fell backwards, but still held on with a tiny thread of steel. He punched downwards onto it, lightly gashing his hand on the jagged edges and taking the head completely off. It clattered to the floor and rolled away.
Then the armour punched him in the ribs. Shepherd had forgotten that although his foe was hominid, it was not going to be killed, because it was not alive. He could not sit here stabbing at the thing all day until it completely fell apart. It was time to ask for help from the only witch he knew. Shepherd ducked under its armpit before it could attack any more and pelted for the infirmary.
"Afternoon, ma'am." he said amicably. "Could you help me get rid of this thing?"
"I did tell you, it's dangerous to try to leave right now." she answered shrilly, but drew her wand and rolled up her sleeves all the same. She strolled over to the door. "Finite incantatem!" she cried.
This had absolutely no effect. The suit of armour continued advancing all the same.
"Ah, umm." she stalled. "I'm a medicine specialist. I don't know any more powerful banishment spells."
"Well, is there anything we can do to manually wreck that fucking thing?" he panted. "Maybe throw something caustic over it? Or make it so hot it melts?"
"Not a bad idea." she acknowledged. "I'm brewing up some anti-shock potion for the cactus-man, but it only takes two seconds to make and it's acid right now. Help me drag the cauldron."
Shepherd and the nurse yanked the pewter cauldron off the fire and near the door. He noticed a long, shallow pewter tub attached to the wall for some medical purpose and immediately ripped it off the wall. He hauled this over to the door and pointed it at the suit of armour, which was still shambling forwards resolutely. Then he tipped the contents of the cauldron into the tub, stood at the side of the tub furthest from the suit of armour and waited. Several seconds later the armour came to the door. It took care to step over the lip of the tub and continued walking towards Shepherd and the nurse. Its feet began fizzing instantly, and before it had taken another step its foot was mostly dissolved, and with a crack it began walking on its shins. These dissolved quickly too, but still it marched on heedless. When its knees were dissolved the magic was visibly weakened, the thing's movements were even more shaky and jerky than they had already been. Shepherd stepped forwards and prised the sword from the armour's grip, then stepped back several paces. The armour had lost the entire of both legs to the acid but was enchanted to continue moving towards its enemy, and predictably fell full-length into the tub with a splash. Within seconds there was nothing left.
"That was by far the strangest combat I've ever seen." Shepherd opined. "Well, thank you for saving my life again, miss..."
"Pomfrey." she said distractedly. "Madame Pomfrey."
"My earlier promise is still on, Madame. If I manage to find a gun and find my superiors, I will find you and thank you." She pointed her wand at the gash in his hand and muttered something. The cut magically healed itself. Shepherd smiled his gratitude, held the bastard sword in front of him as he stepped over the tub of acid and continued down the corridor.